Beauty Lavellan& The Iron Beast
by Nymph Aoede
Summary: A long way from home, destined to save the world; but you can't survive without someone to trust. Lavellan found a new family in the Inquisition, and someone especially exotic seemed to have caught her eye - at first a joke, then a crush, then something more. Follow fem! Inqui's adventures through the plot of Dragon Age: Inquisition as she accidentally falls in love with the Bull.
1. Bull's Chargers

BEAUTY LAVELLAN & THE IRON BEAST

/ Tale as old as time \  
True as it can be  
Barely even friends,  
Then somebody bends  
\ Unexpectedly. /

 **{author's note:** Welcome to my DA:I fanfic! Based on the Lavellan/Iron Bull romance, I wanted to start it all over since the very beginning, to add more details to the scenes and help flesh out Arte'mys as a character. She's supposed to be a quirky Dalish elf, a little immature, a little timid but very compassionate. I love the RPing aspect of the game, and I had too many ideas, so I decided to write them down. I hope this is an enjoyable read for others, as well. The story will skip quite a bit - mostly to the parts where they actually interact, but I will keep some scenes that I really liked, even if they're not romance-centered, if I think they're good for building character. By the end of the story, I hope that I'll manage to portray development in both Bull and Lavellan. There will be parts only revolving around Lavellan, and others only around Bull. Short summaries of events that happen between the skips will be added, because I would like to keep some sense of continuity, even with the choppy scenejumps! I _do_ use actual scenes from the game, so it might be boring if you're here only for new content. There will be original scenes, but not quite yet. I want to get some of the chemistry between them first. Rambling over! Leave a review if you have any pointers or thoughts. Much appreciated! Recommended format for best layout: 1/2.

 **PS:** I'm new to the Dragon Age universe, and still a huge noob regarding the lore/history/races etc. If you see any mistakes, please notify me! **}**

Everything was quite chaotic. Between being denounced as heretics, walking under a torn sky, and the devastating conflict between the Mages and Templars, trying to do justice and fix the world could prove to be quite the task.

After gathering around the war table for a brief meeting in the Chantry, the Council dispersed into different directions, tending to their respective duties. The Herald was the last to leave, the other members already ahead of her line of sight as she stepped outside. "Excuse me", an unfamiliar voice cut through the messy bundle of thoughts in the Dalish's head, before turquoise orbs met the figure of a man clad in heavy armour. "I have a message for the Inquisitor, but I'm having a hard time trying to get anyone to talk to me."

Being accosted by a stranger wasn't news to Arte'mys Lavellan anymore; she had met more new faces in the past month than she had seen trees in the forest of her homeland – and, Andruil knew, there were _a lot_ of trees in the patch of New March that she grew up in. One thing she had learned since joining the Inquisition was to _always_ ask for identification, no matter how harmless or approachable they looked.

The young man presented himself as Cremisius Aclassi, on behalf of a mercenary company entitled ''Bulls Chargers'. _He has such a pleasant voice_ , the elf thought. _So refreshing and respectful_. An odd thing to focus on, but she tried not to get distracted. Her attention fell onto the purpose of his travel to Haven, something about Tevinter gathering out on the Storm Coast.

"My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you'd like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work."

Upon further questioning, to which Aclassi responded kindly, it seemed that their mercenary group was led by a Qunari. As soon as he mentioned horns, interest spiked up. _I've heard about them in tales as a girl...! To be able to meet one is just as exciting as it is unnerving._ Childish curiosity still made its way into her personality; not very helpful in the midst of a war and the entire Thedas falling apart.

The soldier spoke highly of his leader, which was encouraging, following with a claim that they could prove useful for the Inquisition, given their level of skill and loyalty. It could have very well been all lies, but… somehow, she felt he was being honest. The Tevinter were causing problems, and the information served more than useful. The Inquisition at least owed the Chargers a helping hand, since the threat was a common enemy. A few moments of pondering, and the decision was made. "We accept your offer", the Herald spoke, as the emissary gave a small smile before his departure. "Come see us in action."

[x]

The Storm Coast was, as the name implied, not a very sunny place. The journey was surprisingly peaceful, save for the few greedy bandits, a group of violent Templars that had been blinded by anger and innocent civilians that were offered help under the banner of the Inquisition, steering round of most conflicts so that their mission would not be delayed for long. Upon arrival, the assigned scout that had been deployed beforehand, a fair, young Dwarven girl named Harding, disclosed the fact that some of her underlings had gone missing. Bull's Chargers had to wait; all men who worked for the Inquisition's cause were equally important, and not disposable puppets. A rescue was in order.

It came as a surprise how little of a challenge it had been to track down and completely wipe a settling clean of notorious bandits, finding Harding's scouts and returning to base camp by nightfall. As the Dalish woman finished tending to her two daggers, washing off the blood and polishing the blades, she nested into her tent and lay down to get some rest. _Tomorrow is the big day. I finally get to meet him. Iron Bull. Such a peculiar name… or a nickname, perhaps?_ She only hoped they would turn out to be good people, as Cremisius had declared on their meeting, a couple of weeks prior. _I hope I don't forget to stop staring at the horns. I'd love to wrap flowered ivy around them… It would look very pretty. I doubt I'll find any flowers here, though._ Hand reaching out through the dark. A little self-smack on the cheek. _Ah! Behave._ Enthusiasm continued to build up inside Arte'mys, different scenarios playing out in her mind, one more ridiculous than the other, as she slowly fell prey to the exhaustion of battle and travel. "I wonder what father would say _"_ , was the last disturbance of silence that filled her tent, muttered under her breath. She slumbered away into the surrounding darkness until the early light of dawn struck through the heavy, grey clouds to announce the beginning of another day.

The party was up soon enough; Cassandra and Solas were the first to wake, preparing quietly for departure. Varric following tiredly, sharing some light-hearted banter with Seeker Pentaghast. "It's too early in the morning to compete with the ramblings of a little Dwarf", the Seeker retorted, turning her attention to the Herald. "Are you ready to go? "she questioned, her voice characteristically steady and astute. Weapons sheathed and fastened, coat buttoned and braids held into place with a few hidden pins: "I'm ready. Let's go."

The meeting point had been established just by the shore, where the mercenaries had set camp. However, the more the Herald's party approached, the louder the cries of battle seemed to pierce the air. "Seems like there is trouble up ahead. Caution would be advised." Solas, the apostate, always offered wise suggestions and tamed her immaturity. Lavellan appreciated his support; while they disagreed over the Dalish gods, she found comfort in his care. She remembered him calling her graceful – and not shying away from other polite compliments. He eluded her and easily swayed her with his way of speech, but she wasn't certain what to think of his unnatural obsession with the Fade. It was tempting to come closer to him, but something in her being almost screamed not to. It was a strange feeling; like an unspoken premonition, so she kept their relationship platonic, a warm friendship. "They may need our help. Let's head on, be careful. I'll go into stealth, then flank them from behind" Arte'mys spoke, taking a small bottle out of a pocket attached to her belt, a few drops of poison hissing as they met the metal of her daggers." Cassandra will draw their attention. Solas, if you catch them in your ice spell, they're done for." They all gave affirmative nods, agreeing with the strategy – except for Varric, the Dwarf marksman, who looked slightly offended. "Aren't you forgetting something?" "Just stay with Solas and do what you do best; aim." "Gotcha."

Overall, it went well – the Herald's party assisted the Chargers in defeating the Tevinter group within a short amount of time, suffering no casualties on their end. A few of the mercenaries were injured, but there had been no deaths, Cremisius announced. Lavellan was torn away from her colleagues as she searched for the source of the voice she liked – in an instant, she knew who he was talking to. It was certainly him…!

No sooner than later, she was finally facing the mercenary band's leader: the Iron Bull. Well-built was an understatement; his figure had been earned through uncontestably hard work, strong muscles standing as firm confirmation of how much physical power he held. He was more than tall, as she heard Qunari being compared to Giants before; reaching well above her stature. Next to his large frame, she resembled a frail, tiny rodent being overlooked by a terrifyingly large bear. The Qunari had distinctive ashen skin and coaled horns that resembled those of a dragon. She took his appearance in with great bewilderment, despite trying to hide it from the others. The female elf stepped closer, approaching him slowly. The closer she went, the more details unravelled. Iron Bull's face was heavily scarred, his dark facial hair complimenting the paleness of his features well. A black, leathered patch covered his left eye, adding to the incredibly intimidating aura that he possessed. More markings of old wounds graced his exposed chest. His body was clad in armour she hadn't seen before, a variation to the defender armour, with one shoulder covered by a large leather piece fastened with a strap across the front. A thick belt wrapped around his waist, continued by what looked like… _puffy pants_! It was such an exotic appearance for the girl; she had been used to the elven robes (even the human robes weren't as surprising anymore), but the contrast between their cultures was visible. A single similarity seemed to have been their pointed ears – 'knife ears', as they were rudely referred to by humans, sign of an insult. She found it clever, more than anything. When she was within viewing range, he addressed her almost instantly. "So, you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on- have a seat. Drinks are coming!"

Lavellan didn't get to muster a reply – Bull moved to one of the closest boulders, massive and lean enough to sit on. Lavellan only followed wordlessly, watching as he made himself comfortable and awaited his beverage. The waves crashed relentlessly into the cold sand behind her, the breeze bringing a gush of chill that tickled her exposed neck. It was a rocky area, blending in well with the lack of colours overall. Nature had always been impressive to Arte'mys, in all of its states. Although the backdrop was gloomy, it was quite peaceful. "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant", the horned man spoke up. "Good to see you again." The familiar face of the young soldier joined them. After exchanging a few rough words, 'soldier talk', and issuing a repeated search for any escapees, they were alone again.

"So, you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it." A small chuckle erupted from his throat." And I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us." _Already getting into business._ She almost foolishly forgot there would be expenses. Composing herself, she readied for whatever demands would follow – she had to be ready to analyse them and decide if it was worth it or not, and how to refuse or accept accordingly. "How much is this going to cost me, exactly?" the elf inquired, holding her ground. No matter how small or abashed she felt, she needed to stand on her own two feet. She wouldn't back away and be useless, like she was back home. She was a symbol to Haven – the Herald of Andraste. People believed in her… she _had_ to believe in herself. The Iron Bull, however, seemed to be more dismissive of the tension, discussing openly. "It wouldn't cost you anything, personally. Unless you wanna buy drinks later." A flirtation? A friendly invitation? Already, he was being so familiar. She had been instructed since young to not be too easy-going around those she didn't know, especially other races. Not out of hate, but out of caution… The Elves had a bruised reputation because of the subjugation of their people into slavery, and the Dalish preferred to live in seclusion as a result. They preferred independence and governing themselves, living in peace and preserving their old traditions as best they could. Even if her clan was more accepting and it had bloomed because of the trading with humans, they were still wary and preferred to keep to their own. Once in a while, young elves would crave exploring the rest of the world, but it was viewed with animosity by their clans. Arte'mys had always been loyal to her family, and was one of the daughters of her clan's apothecary. Even if most Dalish were knowledgeable of plants and their effects, there was always a family line of specialists who passed on everything they knew through every generation, in order to better understand the wild. They were considered masters of poisons and potions alike, which helped her as a rogue. Although she preferred combat, she was still well-acquainted with an apothecary's teachings.

"We'll go through your Ambassador. Gold will take care of itself, don't worry about that. All that matters is we're worth it." Time for critical thinking to be put into action. He talked so easily about it, like it was nothing. It was true that the Inquisition had already gathered a decent amount of funds, but the Qunari seemed too sure of himself. _Trying to divert me. No actual sum mentioned._ He followed with another casual laugh, fully convinced that she would accept before even hearing an answer. Very confident… and charming, in a sense. _I'm sure he's well-aware of it, too._ She had to take into consideration that they seemed very organized, they made a good case for themselves and they were efficient as far as she could tell. Perhaps the carefree attitude was a consequence of years of experience. They could definitely use more manpower on the field. If the Inquisition was going to resolve the terrible war going on, chances had to be taken and good men had to be hired. Hope lingered in her heart as she formulated her reply. "The Chargers seem like excellent company", she spoke amiably. "They are", he injected with assurance, "but you're not just getting the boys. You're getting _me_. You need a frontline bodyguard, _I_ 'm your man." He raised from his seat, hovering over the elf, then passing by her as he carried himself forward, drops of salted water nearing him in the air. She backed out of his way, her vibrant eyes following him.

"Whatever it is – demons, dragons – the bigger, the better." You could hear the grin of anticipation in his voice. Lavellan could almost feel herself buying into his guarantees; something about him definitely made it feel safe to be around – either the skilled fighters he led, the massive figure, the horns, or the great trust in himself and his company as he presented their offer.

"And there's one other thing;" he continued, "Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?" Was she supposed to? She knew little of the outside world as it was, but thankfully, she seemed to recall overhearing Cullen and Cassandra discussing them one time. Not that she retained much from that… _Don't overextend the pause from obvious lack of information – keep going._ "A little. They're a Qunari organization, right? The equivalent of their guards?" "I'd go closer to spies, but, yeah, that's them." It was Iron Bull's turn to pause. He seemed slightly uncertain, for the first time since they had started talking. "Well, _us_." The last word was accentuated…What was he saying? He was… a spy? Continuing, he explained that the Ben-Hassrath were concerned about the Breach, and that he had been ordered to infiltrate the Inquisition and get close to those in charge, in order to formulate reports for the higher-ups. "But I also _get_ reports from agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

It was a lot to take in – one didn't just meet a spy who openly admitted it every other day. Curiosity got the best of her as she posed her queries; it was always good to know the ones you were supposed to work with. "You're a Qunari spy, and you just… told me?" she questioned awkwardly, not sure what to make of the sudden reveal. "Whatever I am, I'm on _your_ side." In hindsight, he _could_ had hidden what he was… and she spoke that thought out loud, pressing into the matter. It was too strange. It needed to be sorted out. "From something called the Inquisition? Heh. I'd've been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me." An _honest_ spy? The conversation only seemed to get weirder the more it progressed. After further diving into the matter, it seemed that he wouldn't compromise their operations and would keep the Ben-Hassrath at arm's length, disclosing all information to our spymaster, Leliana – he had done his research on us. In a way, it was good to work with such an organization, even if they were still very much mysterious, and to receive reports in exchange disclosing crucial information of enemy activity or suspicions was a good advantage. A mutually beneficial arrangement would grow. Perhaps it was the right choice. The Qunari agent and the Herald agreed upon safe-proofing the reports he sent; and so, the Chargers joined the forces of the Inquisition, hopefully for the better.

[x]

Missions were progressing – although slowly, but surely, the Inquisition was spreading as more areas got marked on the unfolded map across the war table. Some were being killed, but many were being saved. Casualties were unavoidable; it was the midst of a war, after all. The world was crumbling, and its fate rested upon the Herald's shoulders – the one blessed by the Maker, sent by Andraste, to close the rifts and seal the demons away with the mysterious Mark on her hand. Did she really believe she was sent by a divinity? The Chantry had spanned the word of their religion over all the lands, but the Dalish kept to their ancient Elven gods. Andruil was her personal favourite – the Goddess of the Hunt. She was the one she resonated with the most, being assigned as a rogue, she did a lot of recon and took part in hand-to-hand or melee combat, knowing how to strike from the shadow and weaken her opponent without taking too much damage herself. She was a hunter in her own right. It was due to her merits being recognized that she was sent to overlook the peace debates at the Conclave… And it had led much further than she had ever expected. So far away from her family. There was no choice to be made; the Breach was a problem for all, not just the humans. If she could save her people, she would. Lavellan nostalgically admired the old gods, and prayed that the Elves would be restored to greatness… All that she was doing _must_ have been helping all of her race, in a way. An Elf, a _Dalish_ 'savage', no less, was going to be the world's saviour. The opportunity was too great, even if it put even more responsibility onto her shoulders, she would carry it out with pride and bring better days for the Elves. One day she would return to the rich woods and rushing rivers of her home; but for now, she had a duty to them.

It was nearing lunch time. The Inquisition core staff was all present in Haven, having soldiers, emissaries or spies out on the field to fulfil necessary requirements. After helping villagers around town and depositing material gathered in prior expeditions to help craft better equipment for their forces, Arte'mys wondered down the stairs, passing the tall gates and reaching the stables. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the Qunari, watching Commander Cullen as he trained their recruits, Cassandra training by his side. A little break was in order… perhaps she could spare some time for a chat.

Iron Bull was easy to talk to, as much as he was difficult – he was generally nonchalant about his past, opening up to the elf about the way the Qunari were raised and educated, and giving her more information on their culture, but dodging what he willed, making no way for insisting. She listened with interest, appreciating how responsive he was to her poking. One thing led to another, and a certain topic was reached. The Qunari did not marry, nor did they partake in serious relationships. To them, sex was just a sport, just a way to blow off steam. Past her teenage years, the young woman had experienced a couple of relationships, mostly friendships among the rogue assembly back home that turned into something more, something fun. She had experienced love, even in such a puerile form. The topic was intimate, to her, but not at all for him. He spoke of it as he would of eating or sleeping, with no inhibitions. Her wanderings were, no doubt, playful – she could hardly even imagine laying with such a huge man. It made the little minx in her curious, however. She tried not to give into a sheepish smile, in order to seem more mature. "So… you've never made love? Connected with someone, both body _and_ soul?" Although she hadn't really met the love of her life, the boys she did engage with were close friends; they knew each-other well; their childhood antics, their parents, their favourite foods, sharing the best hunting spots, bickering and caring for each-other. Their souls were put into the relationships, no matter how short or childish they had been. They were young, and feelings burned bright… that's what made it a thrill for her. That burning flame, in the heart, not in the crotch. "I… don't know." His grave, raspy voice trailed off. "There was this time… there was a rod…" a detailed explanation followed about a peculiar 'tool' that the elf had never heard about," also, there were more than two people." Laughter couldn't be contained, even earning a distraught and slightly judgemental glance from the Seeker at the training grounds. His words got lost through the bright echoes of her voice, resuming to a grunt and a small smile as he listened to the elf's honeyed tones of joy blending out into the rest of the surrounding chatter. They continued talking for a while, and, as days passed, they shared more laughs and stories. He was a good storyteller, and she was a good listener. Even if not as rowdy and rough as him, she was enjoyable company, and made it easier for him to raise his weapon in the name of their cause. She really did want to help the world get back on its feet. Even if the Inquisition had no leader, she was starting to look like a plausible option. She wasn't the strongest, or the most stoic, but her heart was in the right place. He saw something in the little elf woman – something he hadn't seen in a while. Hope, perhaps. Or maybe it was just one too many pints.


	2. In Hushed Whispers

BEAUTY LAVELLAN & THE IRON BEAST

/ Tale as old as time \  
True as it can be  
Barely even friends,  
Then somebody bends  
\ Unexpectedly. /

This was a nightmare. Terror seared through the Herald's bones, her heart slamming into her chest. She glanced over to Dorian, her newfound ally, a Tevinter mage that displayed a formidable amount of sass and sarcasm, who looked as baffled as her. They had been sent to a dark future…? Not even certain if they could return to their own time, they ventured forth, stepping through the cold puddles of the underground prison, making their way up the hollow stairs and corridors.

 _This can't be it. It can't be like this._

[After the leader of the mage rebellion, Grand Enchanter Fiona, showed up in Val Royeaux to offer the Inquisition an invitation to work together, would they meet in Redcliffe for further debate, everything seemed to turn sour. Something was very wrong, she could tell as soon as they started battling the demos pouring out of the Rift that blocked the entrance through the gates of the mage village. Time was distorted… Someone, or something, was toying with the timeline – a taboo, even for the most powerful mages. Who would be doing such a thing? ]

"Three hundred bottles of beer on the wall, three hundred bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around…Ugh…"

[In an attempt to save his son who was plagued with sickness, Magister Gereon Alexius used time travel to reach the Mages before the Herald, securing an alliance with them for the Tevinter. Alexius pledged loyalty to the Elder One, a strong force who opposed the Inquisition and wanted to kill Lavellan because of the Mark on her hand that allowed her to definitively enclose the Rifts. ]

Dorian was the first to follow the trail of the devilish, hoarse voice that led them to a cell at the end of the damp chamber, the sides lined with grilled doors to keep prisoners in. The only light falling onto the source of the sound was a passionate red, emanating from the shards of Red Lyrium springing from everything around them. Lavellan was right behind him, her eyes widening as they approached. Although she found the voice familiar, she hoped it wasn't who she expected… But her worst fear seemed to come true.

The Iron Bull was standing in the cell, passing time as he repeated an old drinking song. He looked similar to what she remembered, except for the Red Lyrium that had affected him, causing a red glow to surround his figure, his eyes taking the colour of freshly spilled blood. She couldn't find anything to say, much alike her time-travelling mage partner who only stared, dumbfounded.

"You're not dead. "The Qunari was the first to break the glacial silence. "You're _supposed_ to be dead! There was a burn on the ground and everything."

[After being confronted by the Inquisition about his true intentions, Alexius, in a moment of panic and acrimony, used the amulet that rested around his neck in order to get rid of the elf – intending to completely erase her from existence, so that she could never interfere with his plans. Instead, she, along with Dorian, were sent to a near future, where the Elder One had succeeded and his demon army had taken over. The Inquisition had lost. ]

"Alexius didn't kill us", the tan mage reasoned. "His spell sent us through time. This is our future." "Well, it's _my_ present. And in my _past_ , I definitely saw you both die."

Lavellan had to say something. She was trying hard to process everything that was going on, but the sickly look on the Qunari's face was so uncharacteristic and unsettling it made her stomach flip upside down. "Are you all right…? You don't look so good" she observed, her face softening as she watched him. Such a huge man, looking so ghostly. It terrified her. Bull moved forward. "Red Lyrium. If I'm lucky, it'll kill me." He turned to face her. "If not… I'm hoping I die fighting. "Arte'mys felt herself froze, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowing upwards with worry, She knew her life was now a battlefield, she knew that comrades would inevitably die, but the close bond she had formed with her party tinged the strings of her heart every time they were injured. They were always in danger, all of them, she knew that. But she caused all this. She made them give up their lives to fight for this cause. She would keep them safe and send them back home without question. Nobody died on her watch. Not her team. Fear took over her lips.

"You're dying—?" "No, he's not." Dorian intervened assertively. "If we find Alexius, we go back, and none of this will happen. Remember?" The pale giant gestured with his sizable hands. "Alexius isn't the one you need to worry about. It's his 'Elder One'. He killed the Empress of Orlais, and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the South. The army was all demons. You ever fought a demon army? I don't recommend it." Grief spilled through her veins like mercury. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help." He didn't seem to mind. If anything, he was… grateful? " _Demon. Army_! Shit, you were lucky you died early. Let's move – no time like the present."

[x]

A lot had happened since then. In the end, they had returned safely. Time had been reversed back to normal. The memories of the twisted future still haunted Arte'mys and sent chills down her spine late at night, keeping her from sleeping. She saw Leliana being tortured and dying to save them; she saw Cassandra fallen deep into despair, completely void of hope and determination; the suffering that the members of the Inquisition had endured following her death made her understand how important her mission was. The threat wasn't just the civil war, or the demons. It was the Elder One. He had to go.

The alliance with the mages allowed for the monstrous Breach in the sky to be finally closed – but there had been little time for celebration. Corypheus, once a human magister, now an ancient darkspawn, took control over the Templars tainted with Red Lyrium and attacked their home base. The village of Haven was wiped out, but most of the citizens had been rescued, and everyone fled through an old underground pass of the Chantry. The darkspawn called a corrupted high dragon to his aid, threatening to completely annihilate the Inquisition. Cornering the Herald, he tried to remove the Anchor from her arm, only to find that it was permanent. She barely escaped, using a trebuchet to cause an avalanche that swallowed Corypheus' army whole. Arte'mys got caught up in it, as well, and lost consciousness as she fell down into darkness.


	3. The Dawn Will Come

BEAUTY LAVELLAN & THE IRON BEAST

/ Tale as old as time \  
True as it can be  
Barely even friends,  
Then somebody bends  
\ Unexpectedly. /

Cold. So cold. Heavy steps. Slouched walking. Difficulty breathing. Frostbite. It burned, it hurt. Her skin was agonizing under the merciless gale. Her medium armour was no match for the temperature outside. Her fingers felt the worst; well, not quite; to be truthful, she had almost lost all feeling in them. Her feet were starting to give in, too.

So much snow. White. So white. It pained her eyes. She could barely see through the heavy storm. Her body was slowly shutting down, craving some rest. Her mind was a sea of smoke. She couldn't tell anymore if she had completely lost her vision, or if everything was just faded, a mess of bright silver, the brisk air pecking at her from all sides.

 _I want home. Home, where the tall trees are, with their beautiful leaves of striking emerald. The colourful berries, the little critters running to and fro, the birds with their enchanting songs… Home, where there is warmth and love… Where mother makes me flower crowns, where Father gifts me books from his travels to the outside… Home, where my sisters and I spy on the cute hunters and pick one for each of us… Father, mother… Sisters…Home… Am I… Am I home…? I think I'm almost there…_

["Arte'mys? Hurry, hurry!" "Come see the beautiful dresses our mother got for us! " "We kept the rose-coloured one for you." "We know it's your favourite!"]

 _The beautiful dresses… I never did find an occasion to wear it. Mother said it complimented the freckles and the fairness of my hair nicely. She is always so kind._

["My child. I was… pondering. You did well today out in the field, Ranger Ardreth told me so. If you'd be willing, I can teach you how to mix the poisons you asked about. It's the least I can do." ]

 _I remember… Father, you never got to show me how to make them, after all… You're probably waiting for me, still. I didn't forget what I needed. A sprinkle of the black pollen… Yes… Some crushed buds… The root of that infectious weed… The deadly flower sap…I'm coming home, Father… I'm almost home…_

"Herald! Herald, can you hear me?" "Lavellan, where are you?" "Don't give up, she must be somewhere close. She must have followed behind us, I'm sure. ""Cassandra…" "I said don't. Stop. Searching! Am I clear?" "It's no use, Seeker. We cannot see a thing through this storm." "Solas, I need you to shut up right now and help me search for her." "It's reckless to go out there. I know we gotta find her, but wait until the fog passes." "We can't stay here. People are freezing to death, and food supplies are running low." "We're not _leaving_ without the Herald!"

Herald…? Isn't that… me? Who is calling for me? It must be sister Thebea, it sounds like her voice… Does that mean I'm home? I have to let them know I'm here… I have to…

Gathering all of her strength, Arte'mys curled her hands up to her chest, clinging desperately onto her scarf, pulling at it, trying to force her throat to make a sound. She had to tell them she was finally home. She would finally see her family again. Air gathered in her lungs as she took a deep breath, before considerably straining her vocal chords, calling out to her searchers.

"I'm… home…!" Her voice was incredibly croaky, the words barely escaping her, as the last straw of energy left her form, legs rendering meaningless, body collapsed into the snow. "There! It's her!" "Thank the Maker!" Her eyelids slid to a close, and she could make out shapes approaching her hastily. She fell into deep slumber, the warm memories of her family lingering in her heart.

"What would you have me tell them?" We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!" "And who put you in charge?" "Please, we _must_ use reason! Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition—""That can't come from nowhere!" "She didn't say it could." "Enough! This is getting us nowhere!"

Cullen… Cassandra… Josephine… Leliana… The Council… my Advisors… My colleagues, my friends, my party. Varric, Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, Dorian, Cole… The ones who were always by her side… Solas… and…

A distant scene. Remembering. The jokes, the playful poking, the banter, the excitement, the comradery.

"Bull."

The Dalish girl lifted her head off the improvised pillow, Mother Giselle by her side. The Iron Bull exhaled, a little weight lifting off his chest. Hands crossed in front of him, he had lingered next to the Herald's tent, watching the Advisors bicker ever since they found her.

"They've been at it for hours" Arte'mys sighed, glancing towards the Chantry member. "They have that luxury, thanks to you." She further informed her of the situation, how Corypheus had fled, how doubt led to blame, and the argument outside started.

The Herald stood up, wincing in pain, struggling to walk towards the others. Nobody looked at her, all of them sulking on their own. Her vision lingered onto them, for a few moments, before a serene song resonated through the improvised camp.

" **Shadows fall and hope has fled**

 **Steel your heart, the dawn will come**

 **The night is long and the path is dark**

 **Look to the sky, for one day soon…**

 **The dawn will come."**

Eyes slowly looked up, heads turning, the people gathering to the scene. Leliana's crystal voice soon joined, colliding harmoniously with that of Mother Giselle,

" **The Shepard's lost and his home is far"**

and, steadily, soldiers gathered round, adding to the overlaying intonations.

" **Keep to the stars, the dawn will come"**

Even Commander Cullen's baritone voice followed in unison.

" **The night is long, and the path is dark**

 **Look to the sky, for one day soon**

 **The dawn will come."**

People were approaching, kneeling – familiar and unfamiliar faces alike glanced upon the Herald of Andraste, putting their faith into song, bestowing it upon her.

" **Bare your blade and raise it high,**

 **Stand your ground,**

 **The dawn will come**

 **The night is long and the path is dark**

 **Look to the sky, for one day soon…**

 **The dawn will come.**

Everyone's hearts connected, for that moment that seemed to be floating in time, like a reverie. The fires burning ember, the wind howling around them, the unity and compassion of spirits uniting. Impressive was an understatement; the elf was moved to tears, and, although the lyrics were foreign to her, she listened closely, watching them with honour. The grandeur of this simple crowd of enduring survivors was more than any gold could ever offer. It was such a unique feeling that ended up staying in Arte'mys' heart for as long as she lived. It was then when she finally realized, this _was_ her home.

[x]

"There is a place that waits for a force to hold it.

There is a place where the Inquisition can build, grow.

Skyhold."


	4. Horns Pointing Up

BEAUTY LAVELLAN & THE IRON BEAST

/ Just a little change \  
Small to say the least  
Both a little scared  
Neither one prepared  
\ Beauty and the beast. /

Skyhold came as a very pleasant surprise. Aside the fact that it offered much more shelter than Haven ever could, events took an unexpected turn. Arte'mys never, in her whole life, expected herself to amount to much – she was never _the best_ , always average. She wasn't _bad_ at what she was doing, but not good enough to stand out. There was a boy in her clan – Yevrian – who had been taken under the leader's wing after his family had been wiped out when he was but a child. They grew up together, and were always by each-other's side; although it led to many treasured times, it also ended up with her being overshadowed by him ever since his arrival. He had always been better, at everything – he was stealthier, smarter; he could memorize better and learn quicker, he made better decisions, and didn't let emotions cloud his judgement. Perhaps the tragedy he had to live out had hardened him and caused him to distance himself into coldness; truth be told, he had many admirers, but Arte'mys had been his only _true_ friend, who had also seen the sides of him that weren't perfect, the sides he didn't put on display to impress and gain acceptance. She still wondered why it had been her and not Yevrian who had been sent on the recon mission to the Conclave; at times, her thoughts wandered into dangerous territory. _Perhaps they knew what would happen. I was disposable. He would always be precious. Precious Yevrian, the brilliant orphan boy._ Despite her petty jealousy of him, Lavellan harboured great love for the boy. He was her best friend, her brother, the shoulder she could always cry on. They both knew the power plays that were going on, but it didn't change their relationship. She thought of him often; reflecting on the fact that the clan had sent no further scouts to find out what had happened to her. _They all assumed I died. It wasn't a big deal. Not worth losing more men._

She was bitter. She had always been secretly bitter about never being in the spotlight. Always a little jealous, always not as good as someone else, always too childish. Most times, she thought nobody took her seriously. Her acidity softened over time, when their clan sent a letter to the Inquisition, in the very beginning of her adventure, having heard of a Dalish prisoner being held under custody. The leader had wrote it, no less. It was even a little flattering. Josephine helped in formulating a diplomatic response, although there was so much Arte'mys wished she could say. For the time being, she had to fight. She had to keep fighting and persevering if she wanted to get the chance to see her home again. She did it for their sake. It kept her going. Every morning, she thought of the old gods, of her family, of her companions back in the recon squad. If only they could see her now.

Inquisitor Lavellan. The ring of it sent joy throughout her whole being. Inquisitor… her? A little elf girl who grew up in a remote forest and never quite accomplished anything impressive had now become a leader, a symbol. She was changing the world. She had rallied good people, she had made new friendships, she had met allies who made her world ten times better. Living was so much fun now, more than it had ever been. Everything was so intense. Every moment mattered, every breath, every spoken and unspoken word. Everyone looked up to her, respected her, admired her, _and acknowledged_ her as a person worthy of leading them into a brighter tomorrow. Her? Average Arte'mys who always slept in and always tied the knots of her gear too strongly, who always got the ingredient measurements wrong? It was like a dream.

Ever since she had fallen through the rip in the sky, from the Fade back onto solid ground, her life had been like a dream. She couldn't have ever fathomed embarking on such an adventure, meeting the amazing people she did, and fighting for the greater good of any and all that inhabited Thedas. _A hero_. How unexpected, how thrilling. It was as if her blood rushed faster than ever. She could almost feel herself improving – she was lighter on her feet, her step was quicker; reactions came without as much delay, and her spirit hardened when she had to make tough calls. Perhaps she was growing, along with the Inquisition, along her trustworthy friends. She could only hope to honour the faith that so many had in her; to lead them to greatness. To peace, to happiness. Inquisitor Lavellan. She hoped that would be her legacy. The Dalish girl living in a dream.

[x]

The sun was shying away as dusk crept in, a few stars gazing down at Skyhold from among bleeding shades of coral and lavender. The first couple of days were the most hectic, with every soul of the stronghold trying to figure out where they fit in best and how they could serve most efficiently. They all found their place, eventually, as a healer, as a soldier, as a mother, as a tavern girl, as a bard. Arte'mys had become enchanted with the bard's voice, always passing by the tavern door whenever she was rushing about to meet her Advisors and discuss demanding matters, pausing for a few moments to take in her beautiful voice. It reminded her of the dulcet tones of her sister Nesilva; she was the sweetest of all five of them. The whole family knew that roses nested in her blushing cheeks; when she cried, fresh morning dew poured from the emerald orbs that bejewelled her doll-like face. Always quiet, always lost in her thoughts, lost in the parchments of her own written music, scattered all over their home. Many of the clan's men revered Nesilva for her angelic beauty and the graceful talent with which she strummed any chord to her will; the older women were overjoyed by her, and the younger girls admired her aura of purity and elegance. Beautiful Nesilva, almost so stunning that she looked like she belonged in the realm of the Gods.

"Your Worship?"

Krem emerged from behind the wooden door, an eyebrow rising slightly. Lavellan almost let out a small gasp as she snapped out of her daydreaming, standing straight as opposed to earlier, when she was resting against the stone wall, eavesdropping on the tones of music that escaped the tavern's confinement.

"Lieutenant Cremisius—""Please, Inquisitor. Just call me Krem."

"Lavellan, then." "I… beg your pardon?" "Call me Lavellan."

Colour unleashed on the brims of her cheeks, lips curving into a sheepish smile. "I'm not nobility, or any sort of deity. We're on equal terms. There's no need to be so formal."

The mercenary dismissed a second thought that was crossing his mind. "Lady Lavellan, then." That earned a giggle. "Al right, I surrender."

"Will you be joining us?" With a firm hand, he pushed the door open, as the smell of mead reached her nose and the warmth of the hearth sept through her clothes, urging her to step inside. "The Chief was actually looking for you."

It was, of course, a lively spot – people were drinking, feasting, roaring with laughter; others were drowning their sorrow in booze, others had already passed out on the table… it was quite the scenery. Arte'mys had never really been to such a huge tavern before; they did have one back home, but it was mostly tame and any riots that ever happened in there involved her, more or less, so there was never anything _new_ happening that she hadn't experienced first-hand; the best night was probably when she challenged Yevrian to a drinking contest. Unsurprisingly, she lost, because he managed to keep his appearance intact while the tidiness in her speech and gestures visibly decreased; but, as soon as they placed foot outside, he collapsed into a mumbling mess, trying to cover his face, blazing like a festive bonfire late after midnight. Needless to say, she had to drag him home as he slouched with little consciousness against her shoulder. The best part was tying him and pulling him up from a tree, having to push his ass to slide him through the opening of a window so they wouldn't be noticed. He confirmed it as the most embarrassing night of his life, giving Arte'mys great satisfaction in knowing that she had been the cause, even if nobody else had been lucky enough to witness the unrivalled finesse of drunk Yevrian who couldn't string two syllables and clung to her like a lost cub.

A particularly noisy group seemed to have gathered in the northwest corner; from afar, she could definitely spot another elf of her kind, which completely brightened her face. Eyes browsing through the foreign identities, she noticed the horned fighter with ease. Beaming, she was led towards them by Krem, who exchanged nods of understanding and thanks with the Qunari. Upon request, Lavellan took a seat, feeling her heartbeats increase. Krem was probably the one she was most comfortable with, out of all the brave men and women that made up Bull's company. Not only was their leader intimidating; they were very much reflecting the same confidence and battle-scarred aesthetic as him, adding more layers to her nervousness.

"Ah, good – we're not drinking alone!" Bull announced, bringing the ensemble's attention over to her, before humorously side-greeting his second-in-command. "How you doin', Krem-de-la-crème?" "Lady Lavellan, I am so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke." Collective humming ensued. " _Lady Lavellan_?" "Friendly terms there, hmm?"

Arte'mys felt her face flush, but she tried to remain presentable and not allow the idle banter to strike her. "It's not that bad. My Dalish mates said I only use daggers because I would 'Arte'mys' every shot with a bow." The crowd sighed in varying degrees of exasperation. " _Maker's balls_ , that's terrible." "Make it stop." It was heart-warming to see that they were welcoming her into the group and interacting with her, even if she was a little awkward at first. Her shoulders rolled into a small shrug as she glanced between Bull and Krem. "They would probably come up with worse places to go with 'Cremisius.'" Twirling the cup in his hand, the latter shook his head. "So can the Chief, believe me: he _loves_ his nicknames." That almost caused offence; the Qunari followed up quickly. "Hey – when I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers. We _all_ give each-other nicknames under the Qun." The Inquisitor was impressed at the honestly of Bull's words. He seemed proud to have explained that, and it was obvious by the expressions of his crew that he had probably mentioned it on more than one other occasion before. Cremisius didn't give up. The backtalk game was up and running. "They ever wear shirts under the Qun, Chief? Or do they just run around, binding their breasts like that?" The belittlement was humorous to the company's guest, so much that she ended up looking sideways and pretending to wipe excess sweet mead from her lips to cover up her snickering. "It's a _harness_ , Krem." The slow, even pace at which Bull replied was killing her. It wouldn't be long before her subdued giggles would be heard. "Yes… for your pillow-y man-bosoms. Let me know if you need any help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look." It was a good comeback, which Arte'mys signalled to Krem by nudging his side, shaking her head as tears of laughter sparkled in the corners of her eyes. Before the savagery of their chatter could unfold any further, she decided to intervene. Getting to know the other members was why she had sat by their side, after all; and it would make her more at ease if she knew a little about them. "So, your company…?"

The leader tilted his head in approval, one strong arm resting on his knee, the other gesturing towards his men. "Here's the rest of the Chargers: or, what's left of the rest. A lot of them went looking for stronger drinks." He proceeded in naming every one of the unfamiliar faces, included the Dalish woman she had spotted earlier, who, subsequently, happened to bear that exact nickname. "Crazy bunch of assholes, but they're mine", the Bull concluded, almost affectionately.

"You left your clan, Dalish?" Arte'mys hesitated a little, causing unnecessary offense that she had strived to avoid. "Too many mages." "It was a blunt response. Lavellan couldn't fathom leaving her whole life for such a silly reason, but she did know it was a real thing that happened in clans that weren't as open or accepting as hers. The Dalish didn't have Templars, and they couldn't handle too many mages in one bunch. "Oh… I see." "You're daddy's girl, then? Sworn to the Lavellan?" Simply poking fun and a fully-intentional insult intertwined within her question. The older elf clicked her tongue at the outsider disapprovingly. Ah, there it was. Often, the homeless Dalish would taunt the ones who lived with their clan, as much as the Dalish generally taunted city elves for living under subjugation. "Forever. I would never leave. I'm here to give my life for them, if I must." She would never feel ashamed to talk about her people, or shamed to be loyal to them until her last day would come. They were her drive.

"There's a certain charm in this 'fiercely loyal to your people' speech" Krem mused, half-heartedly serious, half simply taunting. "Except for the Chief. If there's any charm about him, I sure as hell haven't seen any." That earned chuckles of agreement. "I'm _very_ charming. You Vints just can't see for shit." Even if it was a strong retort, even for Bull, it didn't cause any harm. The two of them had their own turf of playful disrespect. In the end, it was still the estranged Tevinter who had the last say. "Keep telling that to yourself, Chief."

She was enjoying herself, from what he could see. Iron Bull watched Arte'mys for a while, who seemed to have slipped out of the high and mighty suit of the Inquisitor and simply reverted back to the quirky Dalish girl he met back in Storm Coast, who tried to hold the weight of the entire world onto her slender shoulders without letting it bend her away from her own ideals. He felt content, to see her getting along with his Chargers. It was natural she would first put her sympathies in Krem – he was more approachable than all of them. He presented his whole team to her, yet he still knew very little about her. They shed blood and sweat side by side during battle, and kept each-other company for a while back at Haven, but he never _really_ got under her skin. He knew what went on in her head, and still, he wanted to see more of her, rather than deduce from psycho-analysing the Ben-Hassrath shit out of her. Only now, a few days after arriving in Skyhold, was she starting to let loose and really let them in. She was probably put off by the whole waging war and saving the world thing, but now she had accepted it, and wanted to make the best of it. The assault on Haven changed her… it changed everything. _Strange girl. What are you doing, so far away from home?_ His thoughts were cut short, soon hearing nothing but the Charger's chant, spreading humour and fervour between the tavern's walls.

" **No one can beat the Chargers, 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts. Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup. No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up!"**

Lavellan hummed along, a little off-key, shaking her head with a faint laugh as she comprehended the lyrics. Bull leaned forward, so she could hear him over the unanimous chanting, his grave voice lowered, his usually piercing gaze much more tender than she was used to seeing." Thanks for coming by, boss. Glad you could meet some of _my_ team." Krem might've been wrong… the Bull definitely had a rugged charm that glossed perfectly over his asymmetrical smile. In hindsight, she was glad to have consumed three cups of mild alcohol, so that they served as an excuse for her steadily reddening face. "I'm glad I could spend time with you" she replied, much too quickly, not fully processing what had ran past her brain. "With—with The Chargers" she added, completely lacking any resemblance of smoothness. The Bull only have a heartfelt laugh in return, resting a heavy arm on her shoulder. "You do good work, Inquisitor. I'm proud my boys and I are here." Her strained expression softened. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light. "It wouldn't be the same without you."


	5. Protect Clan Lavellan

BEAUTY LAVELLAN & THE IRON BEAST

/ Just a little change \  
Small to say the least  
Both a little scared  
Neither one prepared  
\ Beauty and the beast. /

 **{author's note:** Hey guys! Hope everyone's enjoying the story so far! I've learned a lot more about the Dalish these past few days, and I am simply in love; you can probably tell from this chapter, haha. I wanted to wait some more before doing the Protect Clan Lavellan mission, but I simply couldn't contain my excitement. I know that you don't personally save them in the game, but that seemed too coldhearted for my Inquisitor. I always wanted to meet the clan, so here we are! Took a few days to come up all with all of her family and the hierarchy, but I think I did a pretty solid job. You'll get to meet the whole ensemble in the next chapter! I did my best to keep everyone in character. I was dying to have Solas come with them, but Dorian and Arte'mys need to get a little closer, and I thought it would be a good opportunity. (My in-game party is always Solas, Cass and Bull. 3) I tried playing along their internal struggles and feelings to get some good reactions& give all of them breath, not just the Inquisitor. Regardless, thank you for reading and I hope you stick around! **}**

'Excited' was an immense understatement – the occasion wasn't a happy one, but, regardless of the reason, Arte'mys could finally see her family again. She didn't even think twice when Josephine announced her about a faction of outlaws that had targeted her clan, as relayed in a letter written by Keeper Istimaethoriel himself, politely requesting even the smallest help. The Council wasn't pleased at all; it was, perhaps, bad manners to leave Skyhold on a personal quest as the Inquisitor, but if her home was in danger, Lavellan could care less about what bad mouths had to say about her; she would be judged either way, as she had been ever since encountering mankind, simply for being Dalish. Humans were scared of the unknown, and scared humans were cruel and dangerous.

The clan of Lavellan was known throughout Northern Free March as a friendly faction of Dalish, and they were even viewed as more civilized than other clans who lived in complete isolation from the rest of the world. They did trading with any nearby cities and had earned a good reputation; Arte'mys would know, as her father was a trader himself. She hoped with all her heart that her family was okay. Apparently, a first attack had been attempted, as they ambushed the scouting squad, but they had all gotten away with injuries, some worse than others. As long as they were in one piece - they would be alright. _I'm coming for you. Please hold on._

The sun was blazing, a sea of greenery surrounding the warriors as they rode their horses through the lush woods. The Keeper had disclosed that they were situated close to the city of Wycome, in an unclaimed valley with fewer Rifts. The red silken hoods of their aravel had probably alarmed them, and, as retaliation, they had sent a group of ruthless mercenaries to rule them out and strike them. It wouldn't be too much of a long ride, lasting a few days at most. The Inquisitor's heart wavered as she thought of her people, wishing, praying that they would remain unscathed until her arrival.

A couple of nights had passed since they left; seeking shelter from the heat and a well-deserved lunch break, they settled onto the grass beneath the shadows of an old tree. The group was small; Arte'mys had seen no reason to bring too many men. Only a few of her most trusted companions had joined her: Dorian, Iron Bull and Cassandra. Needless to say, it was quite a team. She would have brought Solas along, but he excused himself out of it, claiming that urgent research demanded his attention. It was unusual of him to refuse her, but she tried not to dwell on it. More important matters were at hand.

"I take it you're what they call 'Dalish' here?" the mage spoke up. Finding a good spot to camp, they dismounted, and laid down their equipment. "You mean, as opposed to _slaves_?" the elf retorted, unable to hold back a dab of anger; the entire reason that the wood elves lived so far away from civilization was to rebel against the slavery that the city elves suffered. She closed her eyes, slim fingers reaching to massage her temples. "I'm sorry. Yes, the Dalish are elves that live in the wilderness, roaming the plains and forest. They're peaceful, and only want to be safe and retain the traditions of old." Dorian hadn't been the least affected by her sudden outlash. He had been genuinely curious, although, admittedly, it was badly put into words on his part."I see. It must be very liberating, to live like that." Cassandra looked around, securing the area, then gave Bull a glance as they turned their attention to the ongoing conversation. "It is. Well… not for me, anymore." The Qunari stepped in, giving her a reassuring sideways grin. "C'mon, boss – if you hadn't left your clan, my boys and I wouldn't be doing crazy stuff like helping to save the world. It wouldn't've been the same without ya." Arte'mys nodded, acknowledging his attempt to lift her spirits. " Well, if I might go on" Dorian proceeded, laying down on a square fabric that he had packed – a bed spread, most likely to protect him from getting any dirt on his robes. "What _are_ those scribbles on your face? No offense, of course." Arte'mys couldn't even tell if he was genuinely intrigued or if he was ridiculing her like the asshole he was, most times. "Vallaslin" she replied, feeling relief surge through her as she let out the Elvish word. It had been too long since her mother tongue had surfaced. "Also known as blood writing." That caused every single one of her companions to tense up. Cassandra's muscles stiffened, Bull's steady gaze hardened and Dorian felt a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. The elf quickly waved her hands in front of her. "It's not related to blood magic by any means. It is a ritual that the Dalish partake when they come of age. We meditate beforehand, upon our culture and the Pantheon. We cleanse our bodies, our spirits. We prepare to be bestowed with the markings of a God of our choosing – I bear the mark of Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt." The Seeker seemed to loosen up, resting her sword and shield against the tree trunk. "It is clear you cherish your divinities. There is no chance left for you to believe you were Andraste's Herald, after all. I apologize for forcing it upon you." Her voice was low, obviously having been affected. The Chantry was as important to the humans as the Eluvians were to the Dalish. "Please, Cassandra – I will be whatever you need me to be. I will be your Herald, your Inquisitor. I do not deny your faith, and I only ask that you respect mine. It is very important for my people." White lashes batted over turquoise orbs as Lavellan approached the Seeker, resting a hand on the other's iron-padded shoulder. Cassandra let out a sigh, before returning the gaze. A stronger one, this time. "I understand. It must be hard for you, being away from home. I sometimes forget that you're still very new to all… this." Arte'mys gave a small laugh, and assured the woman that there was no need to worry. They would be victorious, as long as they didn't falter. Bull made himself comfortable on a patch of grass, feet crossed and folded in front of him. "How does it work? You gotta do it yourself?" He munched at a loaf of bread, having just pulled it out from their food supply. "No. Each clan's Keeper is the one who bestows the blood writing, if he deems the subject worthy." The elven girl finished securing the horses to not run off, and took off their saddles so their backs could rest. "It's not pleasant, but it is a silent ceremony. Even the quietest whimper is a sign of weakness. Some of us who are too young won't bear it, and the ritual is called off, the elf having been deemed undeserving and immature." Her chest tightened. "My youngest sister, Panoriel, winced once, and her marking was called off. She suffered great shame and felt terrible for some time." The Tevinter mage shook his head in revolt, leaning back onto the sheet of fabric to stretch his legs, one arm propping up his head. "That's a terrible thing to do to a child!" Half-heartedly, the Dalish agreed; she hated seeing her sister in pain, but the teachings and traditions of her people were sacred, and they had their meaning and purpose. "It helped her grow. She got her Vallaslin a year later, and she's now training under Vir Atish'an – the way of peace and healing. It joyed my parents to hear that no more of us would join the Hunters."

The team gathered round, distributing the food they had managed to bring along accordingly. Each got their fair share, and settled down to enjoy their meal, an occasional dash of wind rushing past them. It was a very pleasant moment, and it reminded Arte'mys of her childhood, as they camped and travelled with their aravels, pulled by the beautiful and mystical Halla.

"You have more than one sister, then?" Cassandra probed, removing her armoured gloves. "Four, actually!" The Seeker seemed impressed. "I look forward to meeting the siblings of the Inquisitor." Dorian placed a hand over his chest in indignation. " _Five_ of you? Fetch me my staff; _this_ handsome man is going back to Skyhold before hell breaks loose any further." The Bull let out a laugh at that. "It can't be so bad. Boss is definitely a damn cool chick" he mused, chugging down a can of water. Arte'mys took out her blade and approached the tree that gave them shelter, using her dagger to carve out a piece of bark, bringing it closer to her nose to get a good sniff, then biting down into it. Dishevelled, the Qunari remade his statement. "I mean, except when she does weird stuff like that."

"Thank you, Bull" the elf gave them a sheepish grin, before crawling between him and Cassandra on the grass, reaching out for some sustenance from the sack of edibles. "I'm not eating this, just munching on it – Dorian was giving me a headache, and the bark of certain trees has sedative properties. It's a great cure for small to mild pain. You didn't know that?" She fumbled through the food in her mouth, wiping crumbs off her face with the use of her sleeve.

"Charming. I honestly can't tell why people don't consider the Dalish to be civilized." The Seeker gave him a nasty glare, while Arte'mys barely noticed the jab, reaching out behind them to study a narrow patch of colourful flowers. "You're not thrilling anyone with your attempted witticism." Cassandra narrowed her eyes, managing to reduce the Tevinter to silence with a single look; well, one of the rare occasions when it worked. The rest of their lunch passed peacefully, with the occasional nudges and jokes – not amusing Pentaghast in the slightest – before they retook the route towards the Lavellans.

[x]

Riding steadily around the city of Wycome, the Inquisitor's party neared the meeting spot by nightfall. Dusk was just setting in, dimming the light little by little as it welcomed stars onto the clear sky. The mounts were clearly tired; and Lavellan wished not to hurt them. They allowed them to rest, sprawling onto the ground of lush cashmere; they marked the trees and pinpointed their location on the map, in order to retrieve them after hopefully reaching the camp.

They were getting closer with every step; not much walking had to be done, before the signs started showing. They trailed down a hill, Lavellan rolling and leaping gracefully over old tree roots. She had to constantly remind herself to lessen her pace, so that her companions could keep up. They weren't her scouting team, she empathised in her mind. They weren't as agile and light on their feet. She missed the hasty expeditions, the flowing movement of her Dalish brothers. Soon, she would see them again; in hope that they had managed to hold out against their attackers. _Please be alright. I'm coming for you. I'm almost there._

Faint voices started passing into the wind; a warm light seemed to dance, out in the obscurity. Cassandra's heavy armour let out clanks as metal collided; Bull grunted as he steadied himself down the abrupt slope, and Dorian slightly lifted his robes, assuring he wouldn't trip over them. "Are we _ever_ getting there? I won't have my feet calloused and swollen like a _provincial_." Arte'mys, from up ahead, turned to face them; her cat-like orbs gleamed akin two sea-green gemstones. It resolved the unsettlement in them, for the time being, taking them by surprise. The iris of Elves reflected light whenever facing darkness. "Don't let this get to your head, dear – but you _do_ happen to possess a beautiful set of eyes," mage felt compelled to admit, earning audible confirmation from the Seeker and Ben-Hassrath. The elf only kept walking.

Something was starting to take form beside the pool of glowing gold and copper that fell against the trees and grass; scarlet drops grew larger, sharpening into view as the silken hoods of the aravels. Silhouettes were forming against the beaming bonfire, and Arte'mys knew she couldn't hold herself back anymore.

Thin legs stretched out as she quickly dug her heels into the soft ground, her heart pounding in her chest. Her throat was dry, burning; brisk evening air whizzed past her as she darted forward, arms swinging at her side. The sounds became much clearer; she could hear the Hearthmistress giving blurry instructions to the healers, the fire cackling under heavy logs of wood. Her body was going numb, the tips of her fingers prickling. Lavellan's travelling partners called out after her, but nothing would stop her anymore. She kept running until the hazy contours became distinct, and her eyes met well-defined faces; people she knew, people she loved.

The first she made out was her beloved mother. Her stunning, caring mother Athehra, with looping locks of flaming dahlia, with her full, rosy cheeks, her defined eyebrows, the intricate Vallaslin of Ghilan'nain blessing her facial features in the shade of a dark meadow. Unknowingly, the Inquisitor came to a halt, ingesting the sight before her. It was home. It really, finally was. Home, in the heart of Free March, beneath the bare sky sprinkled with asters, into the ghosts of ancestral whirlwinds, alongside crystal waters arched in disentangled courses. The home she remembered, never fixed in one spot; amounting to all of the bright plains and rich woods that had been her playground as a child.

All three of the companions slowed down when they neared their leader. Vibrant colours of the Dalish caravans splashed in contrast to the night; enticing scents and foreign chatter lured them in. The feeling was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced; Bull, most of all, was completely estranged from the newfound atmosphere of spiritual harmony and the sanctuary of family. There had been a sense of kindred in his childhood, but he never knew his parents. It was bizarre, to say the least, when he compared that to the numerous relatives that formed a clan of wood-dwelling elves, unravelling in front of him.

Concluding the tending of an injured scout who was resting on a bedroll, Athehra stood up and straightened the wrinkles of her long robes, one hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her head, overseeing the rest of the casualties, making sure there was no more work to be done for the night. They had all been treated, handed salves, patched up with special leaves and tinctures. The healers tried to soothe their pain as best they could, and almost everyone had already recovered from the bandit attack. The whole clan awaited the forces of the Inquisition… The troops of her daughter. Her whimsical, talented Arte'mys. Her little hunter, her precious flake of snow. Snapping out of her thoughts, the older woman intended to speak to the Hearthmistress in order to inform her of the current state of the hunters; but when she looked around, it wasn't her old friend Adatre that she saw; it was her darling Halla.

Pearls rolled down the pale face of Arte'mys as azure eyes met brilliant jade. "Aneth ara, mamae" the girl ushered a greeting, her lips managing a mirthful smile through the flowing tears. "Emm'asha. My daughter." Time froze, for even just a moment. Dorian's heart tinged, as if a blade had pierced his chest; for him, Lavellan's loving family was only an admonition to the cruelty of his own. Cassandra was uncharacteristically astounded, resonating in sympathy with the scene. In a mere second, she had gained more understanding for the Inquisitor and her people than she had managed to grasp since their very first meeting. Bull was still adjusting; it was a whole new world for all of them, and he had just watched the witty, fearless Dalish hunter who slashed through demons with nothing short of clean acerbity turn into a whimpering child as she ran straight between her mother's arms, who held her tightly with all the maternal love and soul that grazed Thedas, as if the world would end any moment; and really, it might, so who could blame them? The Qunari were accustomed to indifference and coldness, but it was such a heart-warming sight, even for someone like him; in the back of his head, he envied her, but it was a fraction of a thought, forgotten as soon as it had arisen.

From the corner of his eye, the Iron Bull caught sight of Seeker Pentaghast rising a hand to briefly dab at her lashes, while their accompanying Tevinter regarded the elves with a cold gaze, pain seeping through the façade. Everyone was so complex, so alive, pulsating with individuality – he knew that, as a Ben-Hassrath; everyone had different quirks, different secrets, but in the end, he knew how to use all of them; how to trick them, manipulate them, control their every breath. So much time spent with the Inquisitor and her party had allowed him to learn many of their weaknesses; enough for him to easily destroy them at any moment, if he so pleased... But it wasn't the Qunari spy that was on board this mission. It was just Bull.

[ " _Bull_." ]

For whatever reason, the way the elven girl said his name was so soothing and pleasant, it almost disoriented him.

Right then, he was the Iron Bull, leader of the Chargers, trusted ally of the Inquisition; and, most importantly, he was not only Lavellan's subordinate, but her comrade… her friend, her partner in arms; and he was, deep inside, glad that he had gone with her and witnessed her fragility, which she had tried so hard to hide until that moment.


End file.
